


follow me home, pretend you found somebody to mend you

by TriptocaineAndThirium



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: (Briefly mentioned) - Freeform, (only a little), AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Madison is also dead, Northan, Shaun dies but Ethan and Norman live, Suicidal Thoughts, mentions of cutting, why are both of my first two fics angst even though this one is at least a little happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriptocaineAndThirium/pseuds/TriptocaineAndThirium
Summary: Ethan thought he had nothing left. Norman wanted to change that.





	follow me home, pretend you found somebody to mend you

**Author's Note:**

> here  
> this is a bit longer than my other thing
> 
> also this was written early in the morning so sorry if this is a bit...eh
> 
> (Title is from Numbers by Daughter.)

Ethan Mars wanted to die. Just end his pitiful excuse for a life. Every day now was spent mostly lying awake in bed; any movements he dared make were sluggish, as if his limbs simply refused to cooperate. He wouldn’t have blamed them. Everyone nowadays seemed to hate him. They seemed to think he was either still the killer or just a failure of a father. He could see it in their eyes when they looked at him, as if he were telepathic and could read their thoughts. In a fit of empty-hearted insanity one night induced by the consumption of quite too much alcohol - not that Ethan cared - he briefly entertained that notion and had wondered what his son’s last thoughts were before he drowned in that drywell, and wished he had been able to hear them.  _ Had he been thinking about why he hadn’t been saved? Why I wasn’t there? _

 

He had been lucky that his role as Shaun’s father afforded him a release from jail after the news of his demise broke. Even Lieutenant Blake, who had been responsible for Ethan’s failure in saving Shaun in the first place, had grieved with him. He’d stood solemnly at the boy’s grave, even laid flowers upon it after the funeral proceedings had concluded. Ethan hadn’t cared. A rising, molten ire poked through the cracks of his stone heart at even the thought of the man.  _ He  _ was the reason he hadn’t been there to save his son. All because he assumed the identity of the killer too early.

 

_ But you weren’t fast enough. _

 

Ethan hated that little voice in the back of his mind. He hated it with a vivacity which seemed impossible with the numbness with which he faced the world. ‘The world’ was a relative term; in truth Ethan seemed to exist on a different plane of existence than those around him. Everything fell apart after he lost his son; Grace withdrew even farther from him if that were possible and left the state entirely, seeking reprieve in the arms of another. A tiny part of Ethan wished that other Grace sought comfort from was him, but he knew that their past was one shrouded in sorrows now and to bring mention of it to her would only cause her more pain.

 

The bathroom was alight with a blinding whiteness for a moment as the light washed over the pristine white tiles. Ethan rarely ventured outside of his room; his frame was gaunt and pale, face unshaven. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Removing the towel that hid his reflection from sight and observing himself in the mirror, he recalled the old saying that a person’s eyes were the windows into their soul. 

 

In the reflection of his eyes, he saw nothing.

 

Dried tear marks seemed to permanently stain his pallid face; Ethan could never bring himself to stop crying. His stomach rumbled, wishing for something more filling with which to satisfy itself other than the meager meals of junk food and beer that Ethan allowed himself. He would sooner starve to death than suffer in his loneliness. It was what he believed he deserved.

 

He placed the towel over the mirror again and looked at his wrist. Thin cuts adorned the skin there, some of which were from the previous day. With his thumb on the opposite hand he pressed against one cut that had narrowly missed nicking a vein. Watching the blood start to come up from under the skin where he applied pressure, a perverse sort of enjoyment came over him briefly. Pain was the only thing that seemed to make him  _ feel _ anymore. He knew it was wrong, but he also didn’t care anymore. He had no one that needed him anymore, so what did it matter?

  
  
  


Norman was beyond nervous as he stood in front of the door to the Mars household. He hadn’t heard from Ethan since the case - unfortunately - ended in tragedy with the death of Shaun. Norman admittedly was a bit surprised with how deeply he himself had been affected by the boy’s death. He supposed that was part of being a profiler; you get too deep into people’s heads, you start to feel how they feel without really wanting to. It was this conclusion that led him here; in all honesty he was worried for the older man. If Shaun’s death had so deeply affected Norman to the point that he nearly had considered overdosing on Triptocaine just to end the constant  _ noise  _ that seemed to surround his mind, who knows how hurt Ethan would be?

 

Norman was about to knock for the third time when something in the atmosphere seemed to shift; something felt…..wrong. Following his instincts, Norman moved from the front of the house and went around to the back door, which was strangely unlocked. His worry only heightened. If Ethan was home, why would he not lock the back door? 

 

Stepping quietly into the house, Norman noted that everywhere he looked there was some sort of mess to be found. Pictures, which had presumably been hung on the living room walls before, were thrown haphazardly on the couch. The kitchen was littered with half-empty beer bottles, pizza boxes, and other trash. Norman suppressed his desire to clean up the house for Ethan in favor of finding whatever the hell was wrong and made his way upstairs, where it was nearly dark save for Ethan’s bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and lamplight poured out into the hallway.

 

Amid the heavy downpour which rained down upon the house, Norman swore he heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

 

Taking action as quickly as his body would allow, Norman burst into Ethan’s room, discovering the man pointing a gun at his own forehead, about to shoot himself. Forcing himself to speak, he yelled out his name in an attempt to stop him.

 

“Ethan!”

 

Ethan clearly hadn’t heard him knocking earlier and was startled by his arrival, spinning around in his chair to face him. His ocean blue eyes were wide, and unshed tears glistened in them. The gun was gripped tightly in his hand, which trembled with each frenzied breath. Origami figures were everywhere, the sight of them made Norman sick. Nonetheless, he came forward slowly to try to get Ethan to put away the gun and calm down. His arms outstretched once he came close enough, welcoming Ethan into a hug which was not immediately returned. But soon enough he heard the clatter as Ethan let go of the gun, and his arms came to rest on Norman’s back as if he’d forgotten how to hug someone. But Norman did not mind; his touch was gentle, and it made a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time blossom from somewhere deep in his chest.

 

It had taken him so long to realize, but he knew in his heart that he loved Ethan Mars.

  
  
  


Norman Jayden was an enigmatic man. This, Ethan understood well from what little interaction they had. A skill he learned from being an architect was how to determine each and every little flaw, like in a blueprint. Ethan applied this to people, too, without wanting to. Just from looking at Norman he knew that the answers to the few questions that felt pertinent enough to ask lingered behind the agent’s eyes, held in obscurity from all but those who knew how to venture into the human psyche even half as well as he, being a profiler, did. But Ethan asked only one question, one which seemed to weigh heavy upon his own heart in a way which felt unique to only this moment, this moment that he may not have lived to had Norman not been there a month ago….

 

“Why did you save me?”

 

Norman’s eyes, a sort of not-quite green but not-quite blue, fell upon him as these words left his mouth, but Ethan did not feel a need to hide away from his gaze, as he’d felt with others. A gentle smile came to the profiler’s face, and Ethan saw a tinge of red color his cheeks.

 

_ Is Norman….blushing? _

  
  
  


Norman had never been the best with these things. He, like Ethan, had had his fair share of rejection; it was why he distanced himself from the concept of love entirely when he joined the bureau. But Ethan just seemed to  _ do  _ something to him. Looking into the bereaved father’s eyes, he allowed himself to speak the words that had been on the tip of his tongue since that day where he found Ethan aiming a gun at his own forehead.

 

“Because….I love you. I’ve loved you for a while, Ethan, but I was too afraid to say anything because I hadn’t heard from you since the case and I didn’t know if that’s what you wanted or even needed, and then I found you with the gun and I just felt like I had to take care of you and…...I just…...I love you, Ethan….“

  
  


Ethan wanted to tell Norman he loved him too. He felt it, felt his mouth move to form the words, but stopped short. He couldn’t. Norman couldn’t love him. He would just hurt him. Madison got killed because of him, because she took pity on him and tried to prove his innocence. Norman was lucky he survived trying to do the same. Grace left because Jason died. Jason died because he didn’t watch him.  _ Shaun  _ died because he couldn’t learn his lesson and be a better father.

 

“I….you can’t, Norman.”

 

Ethan looked away so he didn’t have to see the way Norman’s face showed his heartbreak. It was better this way, better that Norman already knew he would only hurt him rather than finding out the hard way. He wanted something, something he couldn’t say, but he was afraid of hurting Norman in a different way than just by letting him love him. No, this was very much different.

 

Norman was confused. “What?” he asked softly, trying to get Ethan to look at him. His eyes were practically glued to the floor. “Ethan, listen, I know you think badly of yourself, but Shaun wouldn’t want you to-“

 

Wrong choice of words.

 

Ethan reeled, jerking away from Norman’s touch with a fire in his eyes that seemed to parallel with the broken man Norman found a month ago.

 

“You think I don’t know that?! You think I don’t think about that every single fucking second of every single fucking day?! I know Shaun wouldn’t want me to think like this but I  _ can’t stop!  _ Shaun died because of me! Jason died because of me!  _ You nearly died because of me!  _ Do you have any idea how much that hurts?!” he screamed, not meaning to get in Norman’s face but doing it anyway by force of habit. 

 

Norman couldn’t stop his voice from cracking as he looked down, ashamed. “I…..I don’t,” he answered lamely. “I never really considered that….I’m sorry….that was the wrong thing for me to say…..i-if you want me to leave, I’ll leave…..you don’t have to speak to me anymore if you’d prefer to be alone…..”

 

Norman had backed away, and now was heading toward the door to go back into the hall. Ethan instantly felt guilty.

 

“Norman, wait…” he said softly. “See…..I already hurt you….” he mumbled once he saw the tears in Norman’s eyes. All he wanted now was to hold Norman, to apologize. He didn’t want Norman to leave. If he left, he would be alone.

 

“I only want to help you, Ethan….please…..let me help you….” Norman gently stroked Ethan’s cheek. Ethan leaned into his touch, gently holding his other hand.

 

“I love you too, Norman…...and of course I’ll let you help me…..you still being here means a lot….it’s honestly more than I ever thought I deserved…..” Ethan felt a tear fall down his face as he spoke the last part.

 

“You deserve the world, Ethan, and more….you mean more to me than anything…..ever since I first saw you, I knew that I loved you….”

 

Ethan smiled, for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The chains bonding him to the depression and suffering he had endured finally felt a bit looser. His soul seemed to have returned to him. Norman was his angel, his protector, his savior. And with him by his side, he knew he would never be alone again.

  
  
  



End file.
